The Last Queen of the North
by Samyo
Summary: "My House is gone. My home is sacked. My army consists of ghosts. My alliances are temporary." Sansa POV. AU fic. Squint to see your ships.


Disclaimer: Own nothing.

Author's Note: AU fic. Companion to Flight.

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I am the last Queen of the North. I feel no sadness. I feel no regrets. I feel nothing.

My House is gone. My home is sacked. My army consists of ghosts. My alliances are temporary.

I sing no songs. I wear no pretty things. My riding breeches are still caked in mud and smoke and blood.

We are summoned to enter and stand before the Iron Throne. I am summoned to enter and yield to the Iron Throne.

I was not suppose to grow up and be this, have to do this. I was suppose to be just a Lady of a fine house, a wife to a kind Lord, a mother to children I will never get the chance to know.

I do not care what the ladies of the Court think of me. I am still free and they are still trapped in their gilded cages. Jon promised that I am still free. Littlefinger promised that I am still free.

The Stag with a heart of fire, the one my father named as rightful successor to King Robert, stares at me as I enter.

I am aged. I am filthy. I am savage. I am steel.

His face teeters between concentration and a scowl; he is different from his brothers, his dead brothers.

Other Lords from the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, random islands and patches of land speak before me. Offer their allegiances formally before I have to.

Stannis keeps his eyes on me. The man that if he breaks, we will break with him, keeps his eyes on me.

I wonder how many present think I might actually be Arya, not the lovely Sansa the Lannisters used to dress up like a doll.

Arya. Where are you, Arya?

My turn has come. My heart beats faster. My palms go sweaty. He still looks at me.

I interrupt the Hand and introduce myself.

I am Lady Sansa of House Stark of Winterfell. I also speak for all under House Tully for I am the last of blood that's free and breathing. The only throne we recognize is the Iron Throne, and you, King Stannis, as the only king in the Seven Kingdoms. We offer our swords, our men, our resources, so the usurpers and rebellion may be put to an end and be put before the King's Justice. We ask that the Bolton's and Frey's are shown the full extent of the King's Justice, and that all lands and titles are stripped from the living to appease the memory of all those they so brutally slaughtered.

He does not speak, but grinds his teeth. He sits on the throne like it was made for him. He is both powerful and terrifying.

On behalf of my House, I wish to beg forgiveness for the actions of my beloved brother who chose to seek justice for the murder of my father, Lord Eddard Stark, last Hand for King Robert, by secession instead of seeking out the true heir to the Iron Throne and giving allegiance.

My fake strength begins to falter, my voice starts to crack. The feeling of everyone staring at me makes me want to runaway.

I also beg for Your Grace's mercy and ask for my marriage to Ser Tyrion of House Lannister to be officially annulled.

And what of him?

I beg your pardon, Your Grace?

Jon said that Stannis was just. He will make it all go away. He'll make the Lannisters all go away.

His sister has already been sentenced to death. Is there anything that would cause me not to pass a similar judgement on the man the Law and the Faith call your husband?

Please make it go away. Please make it go away.

If it weren't for the slaying of his father, what they call your "Race to King's Landing" would never have been possible, Your Grace.

He grinds his teeth and nods to the Hand. A giant weight seems lifted from my shoulders.

I am told that you are the so-called Queen of the North.

I can see him unsheathing his sword at my execution already.

I am the last Queen of the North, as Cersei is the last queen to bear her brother's children and place them on the throne you now sit upon. It no longer matters. It does not matter, Your Grace.

Cersei was a Queen Reagent. You are a Queen of blood. It does very much matter, Lady Lannister.

My short hair won't interfere with his aim.

I have already condoned my brother's rebellion. The only throne that matters is the one your claim holds. I...I honestly did not my status as pretender until the ousting. Any embracement of the status was done in order to transfer any of my brother's surviving loyalties to you, My King.

Jon, the bastard, will dutifully watch.

And threaten Lady Arryn with harm to her son so she'd do what you wished.

I wonder if Littlefinger would cry for me.

I threatened my aunt with harm to what she loves so she'd finally fulfill her duty to her family, a duty she has neglected to the point that her clean hands should be treated the same as those dripping with the blood of my parents and brothers among others.

Stannis will stare at me like he is staring at me right now. He will grind his teeth like he is now.

I am no Queen of the North. I am a Lady of Winterfell. I am your humblest, and most loyal, servant, My King.

His face is the same but his eyes seem different; there is an understanding, there is mercy, there is empathy.

Very well, Lady Stark.

I was the last Queen of the North, and I am allowed to live.

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